


Fic Requests

by Arianne



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Beast Wars, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Feeding, Fluff, Food Kink, Gen, M/M, Mnemosurgery, Multi, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Rape/Non-con Elements, Robot cuddles and makeout sessions, Sad, Sadism, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne/pseuds/Arianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of mostly pairing+kink fic meme request responses I've written for tumblr the past few years. See ingredients list for details! Chapters:</p>
<p>1. TFP Megatron/Starscream - dubcon while Megatron's comatose<br/>2. Trepan/Overlord - "special treatment" after Trepan's kidnapping (noncon warning)<br/>3. Optimus/Hot Rod/Springer - OP and Springer have a fetish for Hot Rod's spoiler<br/>4. Airachnid/Starscream - Airachnid spiking Starscream<br/>5. Optimus/Rodimus - feeding<br/>6. Dinobot/Rattrap - food kink<br/>7. Tailgate and Cyclonus - showing Tailgate Cybertron</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TFP Megatron/Starscream - dubcon while Megatron's comatose

**Author's Note:**

> These were written for various requests on tumblr, mostly meme responses but also ficlets I wrote for a little birthday exchange in 2013.
> 
> All chapters that require individual warnings, such as dubcon or noncon, are marked in the chapter's notes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron was nearly agreeable when flat on his back on a medberth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Megatron/Starscream dubcon.
> 
> TFP, set in early S1 while Megatron’s unconscious. Calling it dubcon because it would be a consensual hatefuck if he were awake, but he’s not.

Megatron was nearly agreeable when flat on his back on a medberth. Before, he’d bark orders or if they were lucky, just gloat about how easy Starscream was to “manage” when he was treated like a pleasure-drone. Now? Nothing. Not even the meaningless grunts about how Starscream was his, or the tiresome demands to know how hot he was, because of course he must always be on the edge of overload with a partner so… ugh, he didn’t even want to bother finishing the thought. How close to overload was he? “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he drawled. No answer. Starscream smiled and leaned down to sprawl over his chestplates, to taunt Megatron to his face. “What’s that? Wait for you? Well, nobody asked you.”

Yes, it was rather better like this, Starscream mused. And finally he got the angle right, and that — admittedly well-sized — spike hit the particularly nice spot that he knew Megatron knew about, but never bothered to give any extra attention to. His laughter dissolved into a sharp scream at the feel of it, and he raked his claws down until they scored those pitifully tarnished chestplates. Check and check, things Megatron never liked, probably just because he knew Starscream did. Somehow, it added up to be almost as satisfying as getting fragged by Megatron always was… and maybe this time, Starscream thought with a sneer and a sharp movement that drove Megatron’s spike exactly where he wanted it, maybe this time he’d even tell him so.


	2. Overlord/Trepan - "special treatment" after Trepan's kidnapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tips of his fingers rested on the injection sites, just as he’d been instructed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: OverlordxTrepan? :) Some "special treatment" after his kidnapping? sticky, if it's ok :3
> 
> Contains noncon, pnp, sadism. Couldn’t get sticky in there. Anon, I wasn’t sure what kind of “special treatment” you meant, so I let Overlord choose.

“Relax,” he said. Trepan’s manner of “patient care” was easy to mock, were one so inclined. Trepan surely intended nothing of the sort when he suggested a simulation. Overlord laughed.

The tips of his fingers rested on the injection sites, just as he’d been instructed: thumbs on the medial corona to guide, fingertips falling naturally into the points of entry on a minimally-protected helm like Trepan’s. One through the coronal suture, another on the squamosal, then —

He ran out of room. Occasionally, that happened. After all, his hands were much larger than his instructor’s.

He started over. Medial corona, coronal suture — much higher this time — squamosal, two through the sphenoid plate. There. “You’ll feel a small sting,” he taunted Trepan with his own words before injecting, and simultaneously initiated transfer. Running from Trepan’s auxiliary processor input, and draped back over his shoulders up to Overlord’s primary input was a hardline. An unorthodox use for one, certainly, but effective. It would be a primitive experience, without shared memory or even visualization, only the most simple of communicative data. It was only a simulation of a true interface, safer, allowing the student to practice while lessening the risk. Trepan had suggested it, and as the connection established and finalized, Overlord’s lips began to curl in a broad smile as the enormity of Trepan’s mistake became clear.

 _My mistake?_ he heard, in Trepan’s voice, from what sounded like inside his own head.

No, that wasn’t possible. Even a mnemosurgeon couldn’t — it hadn’t ever — furious, he ran the most base-level commands to monitor data transfer. It wasn’t _mutual_ , he hadn’t set it up that way. He hadn’t let Trepan inject, _he_ wasn’t even injecting, Trepan had done something but there was nothing in his console that showed any difference from the hardline every other—

_No, Overlord. You invited a mnemosurgeon into your mind._

Overlord may not have had needles, but in anger he found his drills seemed more satisfying anyway. They could certainly do enough damage, when Trepan’s head was between them — and all his vulnerable points already targeted. He dug his fingers in. Trepan’s mind flared in pain and panic and above all his fear of death. Of Overlord crushing his helm in his hands, just like that, over with — he thought of it and, Overlord realized, he hoped.

 _Oh, you don’t need to be afraid of that_ , Overlord thought. _Not when we’ve just started._

Some — but not all — of the fear melted away from the registers of Trepan’s mind Overlord was inhabiting, and in its place was his struggle to bear what was now simple pain. Pressing, invading pain, yes but simple. He was so determined not to move or even scream, but it hurt, and oh, Overlord could _feel_ it.

 _Feels good, doesn’t it_ , Trepan supplied, somehow, and without any more intervention Overlord’s mind was pleading yes, and then he hadn’t let up or moved but the pain was _his_ , all-consuming, _how_ —

Feeling his control slipping, knowing Trepan would hear it, Overlord forced himself to think, _impressive_.


	3. Optimus/Hot Rod/Springer - OP and Springer have a fetish for Hot Rod's spoiler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mm," Roddy teased, wiggling his spoiler. "Do you like it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Still taking kink meme requests? If so, Optimus/Hot Rod/Springer, OP and Springer have a fetish for Hot Rod's spoiler.

“Mm,” Roddy teased, wiggling his spoiler. “Do you like it?”

He could feel Optimus shifting around and then rubbing the top edge of his spoiler — was that his cheek? Edge of his mouthplate? Must’ve been something, because Springer even stopped kissing Roddy’s neck to watch. Roddy tried to squirm around and see.

He got halfway before he felt what was definitely, definitely Optimus’s mouth.

Roddy collapsed from hands-and-knees, but Springer caught him and helped him sprawl out over his chestplates. Behind him Optimus kept mouthing at the metal and making it feel way more sensitive than it should be, not that Roddy was complaining. No, he was mostly moaning and squirming, at least until Springer’s hands closed around the top outer edge of his spoiler.

He whined in frustration when Optimus stopped his kisses, even if it did feel really nice to just be wrapped up in two hot, huge mechs. He was still feeling that out when Optimus’s hands — his huge hands — grabbed Roddy’s hips and pulled up, and before he could process where to go or how to help, there was Optimus. His whole chest. His engine. Right on top of Roddy’s spoiler.

He revved.

Most of the time, Roddy didn’t get what it was about his spoiler. But the attention was nice and making Optimus and Springer happy was nicer, so he went with it. Except this time. This time it was more like begging for it, whatever it was — and his partners were giving it to him. He arched his back into Optimus’s warmth and humming engine and clutched at Springer’s shoulders when every plate rattled and shifted and charged up and tried for an entire minute not to overload.

“Springer, please,” he pled. Optimus was doing his worst but Springer was right in front of him, and nobody said he _couldn’t_ overload but he asked anyway.

“Any time you want to, Roddy,” Springer said, and Optimus added a deep growly _yes_ and wow, sometimes they made it really easy to follow orders.


	4. Airachnid/Starscream - Airachnid spiking Starscream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I suppose you only want the wetware,” Starscream finished, and let his legs fall open where he lay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Could you maybe do a Airachnid/Starscream one? Airachnid spiking Starcream. Some sticky joy! ;P If you have time!

“I suppose you only want the wetware,” Starscream finished, and let his legs fall open where he lay. There was the telltale click of a panel opening. It held the honor of being the first thing to draw Airachnid’s attention since Starscream began his little rant about technorganics.

Spread wide and sprawled on his back, Starscream had put himself on display, and Airachnid looked. It wasn’t a bad valve. Nice lines, tight enough, and for all the energy Starscream wasted trying to look bored, it was dripping wet. Obscene, really.

Apparently she had taken too much time looking, because Starscream felt the need to speak, again. “Or does _your kind_ like it better like this,” he added, and gathered himself up onto hands and knees — head down, aft up. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Airachnid shrugged off the insult, and dragged the tip of her spike over that hot valve and admittedly nicely rounded aft.

“The view is better,” she taunted, and imagined she could see his sneer turn into open-mouthed shock when her first thrust drove straight to his ceiling nodes.


	5. Optimus/Rodimus - feeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Energon?” Optimus asked, and kissed his forehelm as Roddy nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mooglemisbehaving requested: Optimus/Roddy, feeding. :3

Roddy hummed into their kiss, and pushed gently at Optimus’s chest.

Optimus stopped at once, released his mouth, and eased back. Roddy rubbed his hands up and down Optimus’s chest, trying to soothe the sudden hitch in his engine underneath. When he onlined his optics and focused them, he met Optimus looking to him for direction.

“You’re good.” Roddy smiled. “Just need a break.”

Optimus smiled back, and settled into a comfortable resting place at Roddy’s side.

Roddy leaned into him. He felt so warm, and strong, like he was even stronger now when they’d been cuddling and kissing for the better part of an off-shift, than when they started. A Matrix-bearing Prime’s stamina was unreal, Roddy knew that. He loved that about making out with Optimus. Not that he didn’t love everything about making out with Optimus. Making it a regular thing had been their best idea yet.

“Energon?” Optimus asked, and kissed his forehelm as Roddy nodded.

And because it was regular, Roddy could plan it, and fill a cube of energon for the side table for when he inevitably wanted it. Optimus even retrieved it for him.

He could refuel himself. But sometimes it was nice to have help.

Moved gently until he was cradled in just one of Optimus’s arms, Roddy let his optics shift offline. He felt Optimus balancing the base of the cube against his chest. The weight of it was somehow comfortable. Roddy brought his hands up to help stabilize it, holding on loosely, but following Optimus’s lead.

Optimus shifted his shoulder to help Roddy lift his head, and tipped the cube to give Roddy his first sip. It was warm, somehow, and delicious.

There was a rhythm to intaking energon like this, and even though they’d done it a few times, it still took Roddy a little while to get it down. Optimus was patient, and perceptive. When Roddy turned his head, he paused, and when Roddy reached out for more, he continued.

He only consumed a little more than half before he was done. It seemed like it took less this way, but Roddy was never sure if that was true or not. He did know that he was full, and relaxed, and happy.

Optimus held the cube to his mouth a little longer. He was offering, maybe even suggesting, that Roddy take more, but wasn’t pressuring. He never did. Roddy turned his head, resting it halfway between his own shoulder and Optimus’s chest. Optimus understood. Roddy’s world was tilted when Optimus reached forward across his body to deposit the half-full cube, then gently put back right when Optimus settled them back.

He wasn’t in a hurry, and Roddy was glad. Sometimes he needed some time, after. This time he just felt content. Their arrangement wasn’t exactly normal, but Optimus was looking at him like it was.

Roddy happily wrapped his arms around Optimus’s neck, and offered his mouth. They’d kiss some more, and then if Roddy were very lucky, maybe before the shift was over, Optimus would want to be held and fed too.


	6. Dinobot/Rattrap - food kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You do know this was your idea?” Rattrap said as he rummaged in his storage for some fresh energon he’d set aside for a special occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mooglemisbehaving requested: Dinobot/Rattrap, food kink?

“You _do_ know this was your idea?” Rattrap said as he rummaged in his storage for some fresh energon he’d set aside for a special occasion — and Dinobot asking for it while they’re getting hot, that’s one _special_ occasion.

“Yes,” Dinobot said, watching him. “Just none of that organic _filth_ Rhinox has given you.”

Rattrap shrugs. “Says the guy who ate his clone, but who’s countin’?” Well, Rattrap is counting, but you also won’t hear him complainin’ about good old energon, the refined stuff and everything. ‘Specially licked off Dinobot — “Hey!” Dinobot snatched the cube from him. “It’s just energon!”

“Mm,” Dinobot said, taking a swig off the top over Rattrap’s useless protests… and that’s the moment Dinobot picked to pull him in and kiss him, all open mouth and tongue, sharing the energon.

Yeah, okay, this was a good idea, even better than we he had in mind — but if Dinobot wants to keep kissing him so he don’t have to admit it, that’s good too.


	7. Tailgate and Cyclonus - showing Tailgate Cybertron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are those lights?” Tailgate asked, seeing them out of a transparent panel Cyclonus had arranged for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sad little ficlet written and set after MTMTE 17. The first of two Tailgate/Cyclonus fics written for a birthday exchange between ceryskitty, robohaven and I!

The interior compartment of Cyclonus’s alt was large enough to hold Galvatron; for Tailgate, it was large enough that he needed to be held in to ride inside. Still, he seemed as comfortable as when they had first set out, hours ago. For a short while during the flight he had fallen into recharge. Like that, he seemed content; Cyclonus could not bring himself to mind. It was a true contentedness, unlike the waking amnesia which gave Tailgate only the illusion of complacency.

“What are those lights?” Tailgate asked, seeing them out of a transparent panel Cyclonus had arranged for him.

“Sparks,” Cyclonus replied, for the second time. He felt some measure of relief that Tailgate could still see well enough to discern them.

“Newsparks?”

“Yes.”

“Why are there so many?”

Cyclonus considered his answer carefully, and settled on a non-answer. As little as he wanted to remove Tailgate further from reality, there was no need to upset him now. “There was a war.”

“Here?”

“No,” Cyclonus answered truthfully.

“Oh,” he said simply, and added with an innocence that was entirely Tailgate, “Did you fight in it?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“That’s good,” Tailgate said. When he pet the interior side of Cyclonus’s cockpit in affection, Cyclonus veered only slightly off-course.

He recovered in a great loop that was nearly the limit of his aerobatics, and flew inverted. It allowed Tailgate a sweeping view of the landscape, restrained safely but making his best efforts to press himself against the upper glass, now below him.

His field pulsed with thrill and happiness, and Cyclonus’s spark ached for him in return.

He made another full pass around the familiar part of Luna-1 before he righted himself. Tailgate relaxed back into his compartment, with the maneuver, as Cyclonus began another trip around.

“Thank you… Cyclonus,” he said, finally, with effort. “Cybertron is beautiful like this.”

Cyclonus lied, “Yes, it is.”


End file.
